Helpless
by Golden Snowflake
Summary: An entire life has been devoted to thwarting him … so strange to think that with merely a tangling of tongues it has crumpled at his feet. ZADR


**Helpless  
><strong>_by Golden Snowflake_

Pain … slow, languid, enduring. Decadent. Aching, deep; serrated teeth digging into bruised flesh. Feeble whimpers that rise from chapped, thirsty lips; glistening trails of tears resulting from the shame of helpless pleasure.

Dib trembles helplessly as his captor rakes his claws slowly down his sides, marking his alabaster skin with ugly black bruises. The Irken coos in delight, narrowing his glowing ruby eyes. He runs a talon gingerly down the horrid, healing gouges of a particularly deep bite on the shuddering human's side; another throbbing reminder of whose property the boy truly is.

His victim opens his eyes, ocher depths swimming with humiliation and guilt as he pulls in a hoarse breath. Zim idly strokes the ugly tooth marks as his gaze flicks to the human's lips. They're cracked and swollen from nearly an hour now of abuse. He wants them – wants to relieve his captive of Dib's desperate want – but not just yet.

"Human…"

Dib forces his eyes open, face cracking and betraying his faint hope. Zim's antennae tilt forward and he is nearly hypnotized by the power he has over the shuddering creature before him. He's hopelessly addicted to it.

"Dib-thing," the Irken murmurs distantly.

The adolescent gives a shuddering breath, his slender fingers clenching the air. The alien's touch wanders up the center of his stomach and over his fluttering heartbeat. He cradles Dib's angular chin, fascinated as Dib leans into his palm eagerly with a muted sigh. He simply cannot understand these humans.

The slender teen gives a rasping sound, almost a word, before the shame of this compromising act quiets him once more. Zim leans forward to place gentle nips down the other side of the boy's neck, and Dib stirs, moaning softly and making a nearly inaudible purr of pleasure rumble up the alien's throat. He feels the sting of water against his slender thumb and he knows that his enemy is crying once more.

"Foolish child," the invader murmurs, stroking the boy's neck with his thumb. "There is no need for such sorrow."

"A-ah-" Dib rasps and weakly grips Zim's shoulders as the Irken pulls harshly on the skin joining Dib's shoulder and his neck, causing Zim's arousal to harden impossibly more so inside him. "Zim," he groans breathlessly, and his spine goes rigid at the feeling of the alien deep within his insides. Needle-sharp claws tease the hypersensitive nerves beneath the skin of the teen's stomach as a segmented tongue ghosts over a darkening bite mark.

"Dib," the Irken responds softly, honoring his victim by acknowledging him briefly. The human turns his head further, the edge of his mouth brushing the caressing hand. Zim jerks his hand away and bites down.

"Zi-iiiim," the human gasps, voice nothing like its usual confident volume. The predator feels a surge of sadistic delight at his small victory, rumbling softly with approval as his teeth slice fragile human flesh. The enemy he has fought with all his soul shudders violently against his bite, helpless. The Irken purrs, a ghost of a smile flashing moonlight against his bloody teeth.

He has defeated his rival. Finally. After countless battles and brushes with death. He has seen the spectrum of terror and rage and exhilaration thousands of times in those beautiful, amber eyes; he has watched every ounce of the boy's strength come flying at him over and over. An entire life has been devoted to thwarting him … so strange to think that with merely a tangling of tongues it has crumpled at his feet.

So strange to feel the boy shuddering helplessly against him and at a loss for words, succumbing to the filthy human urges Zim had thought him to be too defective to even feel.

The human's chest flutters like that of a fragile bird as his hands ball into exhausted fists. His heart is thrumming, pulsing around Zim and buzzing in his antennae. Zim runs his thumb gingerly over his enemy's lips once more and this time doesn't pull away when Dib moans pleadingly and leans against his palm.

"Strangle little Dib-thing," he murmurs softly, unable to put the disgust in his voice he intended to. It's even harder to feel any hatred when the brunette sweeps his tongue hungrily over the green palm cupping his face.

Zim watches, hypnotized, as the gaunt creature turns his jaw and closes his lips around his index finger. His tongue is hot and slick as it traces the Irken's skin, and Zim feels a rigid aching that runs all the way from his fingertip down to the pit of his stomach. He doesn't realize that he has groaned out loud until the echo of it resonates in his feelers, and the reminder that this boy is capable of rendering him so utterly defenseless brings him to the decision that it is time to move.

Zim reclaims control as he gradually resumes the rhythm that connects them both so closely - the movements that being forth pain and need and desperation from Dib's shining eyes; that bring forth a powerlessness Zim now craves like a drug. Slowly he begins to reward Dib's submission with gentle touches, slipping his claws possessively down the boy's scarred and aching sides. He tastes the sweat beneath Dib's jaw and allows a low, grating purr escape his throat as he begins to move faster.

The pain is slow. Languid, enduring.

Decadent.

Serrated teeth dig into bruised flesh, provoking breathless, needy moans from the human pinned to the sheets. Feeble whimpers rise from his chapped, thirsty lips as a tear slips down Dib's pale face from the shame of helpless pleasure.

Zim closes his eyes and smiles.


End file.
